Coquet, Coquette
by LadyLeafling
Summary: There's a thin line between love and hate; between passion and savagery. Sansa could scarcely make out the difference with Joffrey.


**A\N: Writen for Angel of Darkness12345, who challenged me ages ago to: "_write a fanfic that explains what "could" happen if Sansa actually obeyed Joffrey...and actually ENJOYED it." _I'm sure I'm way off the mark, but I wrote this in, like, a half-hour... yeah... **

**Violent and non-explicit sexual themes ahead.**

* * *

"Kneel before your King." Joffrey offered fiercely, eyes narrowed until they were naught more than slits as he beheld the sight of his betrothed; rumpled and pretty, crystalline gaze bleary and unfocused from having just been stolen away from her bed.

Sansa nodded clumsily, crimson curls bobbing as she bowed her head. Gathering the fine silks of her shift in her dainty hands, she curtsied; her pink, knobby knees revealed to prying eyes as she bent low. "Of course, my love, your Grace." She chirped as she looked up from her elegant genuflect to smile for her King. Her natural beauty was alluring; her coquettish expression more so.

Joffrey felt a heat stir within the pit of his stomach as he watched Sansa move. Her nightgown left little to the imagination, even as it hung loose on her delicate frame. Dropping the sheath of his ceremonial blade onto the floor and not caring for the cacophonous clatter it made when it impacted with the stone beneath, Joffrey gestured for Sansa to rise. "I am in no mood today for your sycophancy." He said icily, barely suppressing the deep-seeded urge to reach out across the space betwixt them to strike Sansa. She hadn't done anything wrong; she did not deserve punishment. Watching her rise to full height, and the way her maturing breasts made themselves known as they pressed too close to the almost translucent-fabric of her modest frock, stirred a savage feeling within him; a barbarous impulse that made it hard to discern whether or not he wanted to have Sansa or hurt her. "Undress me." Joffrey commanded; his words not quite belonging to him as his thoughts were muffled by the sound of his heart pounding with the vigor of a war-drum.

Sansa bit her lip in an infuriating display of bashfulness before approaching her King. Gracefully, she closed in on Joffrey and reached out to undo his opulent cloak. Untying the fastenings with ease, she avoided Joffrey's penetrating stare. "Your Grace… I cannot work if you are to look at me like that." She admitted shyly, looking up at him barely through her fire-red lashes; unwittingly seductive.

Joffrey gritted his teeth as the fire within burned hotter and hotter. Lifting his hand, he caressed Sansa's neck and jawline. Marveling at how the pretty, alabaster flesh came alive with goosebumps under his touch and how her pace hammered against his fingertips, Joffrey didn't expect the tiny moan of shock and pleasure that escaped Sansa's lips. "Oh…" She breathed; skilled hands suddenly faltering as she leaned more into her King's touch. "Oh…" She repeated when his cold fingers remained against her skin.

Something about Sansa tonight had Joffrey's blood singing with violence. The hand on Sansa's face grew heavier and less cautious as it traced the curve of her neck, the frailness of her clavicle, and finally the gentle swell of her bosom. Hungrier with each inch of clothed-flesh he touched, Joffrey's civility began to fail him as he squeezed Sansa's breast harder than what was permissible. She shrieked, half-pleasured and half-pained; hands falling away from her work to catch Joffrey's wrist in her grip. "Your Grace! Th-that hurts!" She panted; her words and her actions out of sync as she arched wantonly into the tight grip.

Joffrey's nostrils flared as he breathed heavily. "Silence! Do not speak unless spoken to!" He ordered angrily, striking Sansa as hard as he could; hoping to quell the animalistic wrath that grappled with him for control.

Sansa fell to the floor, hand cradling her cheek instinctively as she looked up to her King. "My apologies…" She whimpered.

In a moment of weakness Joffrey reached down and caught Sansa's wrist in a brutal grip. Hauling the girl to her feet, the blonde wrapped both of his hands around her neck. "Did I tell you to stop undressing me? Insolent cunt, I should have you beheaded!" He snapped, hands almost squeezing tight to cut off Sansa's airways.

She tried to apologize once more but with her betrothed's palms pressing down on her throat, she was effectively silenced. Mouth falling open as she tried to find a moment's breath, Sansa remembered Joffrey's words; his demands for her to undress him. Raising her trembling hands to the blonde's chest, she tried to unbutton his chemise. Her fingers were much to clumsy, however, and her hands ended up winding themselves in the thick fabric of Joffrey's shirt. Not knowing what to do to calm her lover's storm but knowing that she would soon succumb to asphyxiation, Sansa threw her head back and let out a rasping sort of moan.

The sound was like music in the ears of the beast raging within Joffrey's chest; grinding his teeth, he squeezed Sansa's neck harder: looking for that sound once more. "Nngh!" She cried much to his sadistic delight. Turning them so that Sansa had her back to his commodious bed, Joffrey pushed her back onto it and, after freeing his hand, had begun to hike her skirt up. Sansa's glassy eyes went wide with surprise. Mouth rounding to the shape of an O, she tried to speak. Briefly, Joffrey wondered what she might say: would she beg him to stop; perhaps the little whore would beg for his cock. Loosening his grip on Sansa's neck somewhat as he focused on undoing the laces of his breeches, Joffrey barely suppressed his groan of pleasure when Sansa began gasping for breath.

"Your Grace…!" She wheezed, squirming helplessly beneath the King's greater form.

"I said _Silence! _Stay your tongue or else I shall cut it out!" Joffrey threatened, shoving his trousers down his legs to free his overwrought arousal.

Sansa went completely still before panting: "But, Your Majesty, my tongue is very talented."

Joffrey halted his assault on Sansa's small-clothes at hearing her speak out of turn; his expression was completely unreadable as his wild eyes gave Sansa the once-over. Seeing her pink tongue flick out to wet her trembling, rubicund lips, Joffrey felt the monster howl within him. "Is that so?"

Sansa nodded; glad that Joffrey had not chosen to punish her. "Yes, certainly, Your Grace. Would you care for a demonstration?"

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Even though Sansa's throat would be hurting for days to come, to see her King so smug made the pain well worth it.


End file.
